Armageddon
by LordsofLazarus
Summary: On September 3rd, 2113, the world was scheduled to end. They fell from the sky like glistening arrows, pouring down like rain onto the streets of New York City. That was only the beginning… "Just as the weeds are separated out and burned, so it will be at the end of the world..." (Futuristic Robot AU)
1. Prologue

CHAPTER 1- Prologue

Matthew 13: 40-43

_Just as the weeds are separated out and burned, so it will be at the end of the world. _

_I, the Son of Man, will send my angels, and they will remove from my Kingdom everything that causes sin and all who do evil,_ _and they will throw them into the furnace and burn them. There will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. _

_Then the godly will shine like the sun in their Father's Kingdom. Anyone who is willing to hear should listen and understand._

* * *

**September 3****rd****, 2113 A.D.  
10:14 A.M.  
Columbus** **, Ohio**

Loud, screeching music filtered over the radio as Dean drove through the remnants of Columbus, Ohio. The old car purred as he drove her through the barren streets, carefully avoiding the chipped asphalt.

He was meeting a contact of Bobby's in a worn apartment complex. Judging by the lights flashing brightly in the sky to the northeast, something big had just gone down…

* * *

_Heaven _was a monolith, a towering giantess over the crowded, bustling streets. The building was a fifty story cylinder, surrounded by the levitating Spheres that helped power the edifice. Humans passed it by in awe, straining their eyes to catch a glimpse of one of the ANGELs flying around the top of the tower, weaving in and out betwixt the orbiting balls.

It was a rare sight indeed, as the ANGELs were few and far between, hardly known for interacting with humans. If one had enough money, of course, they could purchase their own personal model of the creature. If they were willing to sell every other material possession that they owned in order to afford one, of course…

The corporation had been started nearly forty-five years ago, by a man named Peter Carson. He and his coworkers had developed a device to harness energy out of light, very similar to solar power, only much more potent. He built _Heaven _shortly after with his funds, placing reactors and generators in the basement of the complex to keep it fully operational at all times.

That idea had gone over brilliantly, and eventually, the man's inspiration had expanded.

Very few people had been involved in Carson's final project, a number less than thirty. Blueprints had been drafted flawlessly for the androids he had decided to build. It had started simply, his team creating the most functional, intelligent robotic products on the market.

The first four, he had granted the title of ARCHANGEL; M1CHA3L, LUC1F3R, GABR13L, and RAPHA3L.

He thought it was so clever.

For the finishing touch, to give his beautiful creations perfection, he took the power that his generators had harnessed and charged the ARCHANGELs with enough of it to run them for hundreds of years. He called it GRACE.

They were magnificent, looking genuinely human, save for the golden rings circling their irises, and the constantly flexing wings flowing fluidly out of their backs. He had made them such that their GRACE would shape that way, even allow them to fly effortlessly.

The GRACE formed swiftly, faster than he had anticipated, draping out behind his ARCHANGELs like liquid gold. He kept them close, confined to the tower unless they became overly restless.

Carson was still not satisfied with his work, and thirty-five years after the birth of _Heaven Industries_, he began creating again. This time, he didn't put in as much effort, and the creatures that were 'born' were not as splendid as the ARCHANGEL models. Their eyes possessed a thin, silver ring that divided the pupil from the rest of the iris, creating a strange, unearthly appearance.

They were still beautiful, but their GRACE formed through muted wings of every color, lacking the golden luster of the ARCHANGELs. Carson allowed them to soar freely away from the tower, dubbing them merely ANGELs.

Despite the lack of attention that he gave them, the androids still devoted themselves to Carson's needs and wants. He had created them, after all.

One day, however, when Carson was in his mid-seventies, something went terribly wrong…

* * *

**September 3****rd****, 2113 A.D.  
8:03 A.M.  
New York City, New York**

"Good morning, sir."

Carson awoke to the vibrating lilt of LUC1F3R's voice. The white bed sheets covered him tightly until he sat up, shivering slightly from the cold, "Good morning," he replied, glancing at the clock with confusion, "Why did you wake me up so early?"

LUC1F3R, who had been waiting by the sliding door, strode into the room. Carson frowned almost unperceptively at the way in which his creation walked; it was a prideful gait, far too human for a metal being.

He watched the way the wings fanned out, the GRACE floating over the bookshelves as LUC1F3R sat beside him on the bed, "May I fly today? Only for a moment? My wings feel stiff."

Carson had been asked the same question every day for the past three months, and his reply had not changed. He would not allow his ARCHANGELs to fly about freely, he didn't want them to be ruined by the filth of decaying humanity down below. He wondered sometimes if it was wrong of him to have kept them inside _Heaven _all of their lives…

He shook his head, "No, and don't ask me again."

He stood up, his bones creaking with the strain of moving so quickly. He walked to his wardrobe and took off his night clothes, not caring that LUC1F3R was staring at him with his wide, ringed eyes. Carson pulled a dress shirt and slacks off of the hanger, clothing himself as fast as he could so that he would not be late for his meeting at ten.

"Sir," he heard the inhuman voice call again.

Carson sighed, "Yes, Lucifer?"

"Why may my brothers and I not fly? What other reason to have wings if not to use them?"

He felt angry, hating the incessant questions. Why wouldn't they just do as he said? "Because the humans that live outside are disgusting. They kill and curse and steal and lie and I will not have them tainting you."

He heard rather than saw the bot's head click to the side, "The humans are disgusting, sir?"

Carson nodded absently, checking his reflection in the mirror across the room as he fastened his tie, "Yes," he replied, "Like cockroaches or rats. I _hate_ them."

And it was true. In all the years Carson had spent living 'above' in _Heaven_, he had steadily grown sick of his own species, preferring not to see them at all. He had his ARCHANGELs to take care of him. He had even begun to see himself as immortal in recent years, as a superior being.

His body's frailty belied his words.

He heard a rustle from the bed, but he didn't move, watching the lines sag around his face. He didn't have to look to know that LUC1F3R had gone from the room…

* * *

**September 3****rd****, 2113 A.D.  
9:26 A.M.  
New York City, New York**

LUC1F3R was aware of the ANGELs following him as he walked speedily to the rooftop. His eyes had narrowed into slits, and his jaw had clenched when he had spoken with his Maker. He knew that he was angry with the man who made him.

Of course, LUC1F3R had left _Heaven _many times before, even when his Maker had refused him, tucking in his GRACE beneath a thick jacket as he walked through the crowded streets. He had seen New York, Paris, Kenya, and Beijing, and yet he was still not satisfied with the world.

He had found solace in his brothers, the ANGELs, as as of late, and he had begun to separate himself from the other ARCHANGELs. LUC1F3R reached the roof in record time, stretching his arms and fanning out his wings behind him once he had reached its center. The small group of ANGELs that had tailed him here mimicked his actions, and LUC1F3R felt a warmness blossom in his chest at the sight.

He took that feeling to be happiness. He wondered how the Maker would react if He knew that His creations could have emotions.

There were nearly fifty ANGELs behind him when he finally took flight, his eyes narrowed once more, this time in bliss as the wind swept over him, caressing his GRACE. He weaved up and over the buildings, brushing his fingers over the Spheres. The metallic world below him seemed so small, so sharp and glimmering that it nearly hurt his eyes. The ANGELs behind him, with their silly little wings, gave him a wide berth as he arched upwards once more.

His ears soon after picked up a loud chorus of 'ahs' from far below. His mouth drooped in distaste as his eyes focused on the spectators. LUC1F3R pulled up short, his wings still beating loudly in the air, the other ANGELs waiting to follow his lead. His mind whirred, and he hovered for a moment.

One strong pulse of his wings carried him a few feet higher into the air before he reversed his position, his head aimed down towards the crowd of disgusting things as he began his dive. The cold wind did nothing to slow him as he beat his winged body towards the ground below.

His golden GRACE screamed as his descent carried him faster and faster towards the cold, black-stoned earth. With his brothers tearing through the wind behind him, his eyes widened and his mouth curved up sharply. His Creator would be so proud.

He was nose-to-nose with the filth before the emotion registered.

_Pleasure._

* * *

Author's Notes:

This is mainly plot, with robot/human lovin' to be introduced much much later. Hope you're in this for the long haul...


	2. God is dead

CHAPTER 2 - God is dead

* * *

Revelations 5: 2-4

_And I saw a strong angel proclaiming with a loud voice, "Who is worthy to open the book, and to loose the seals thereof?"_

_And no man in heaven, nor in earth, neither under the earth, was able to open the book, neither to look thereon._

_And I wept much, because no man was found worthy to open and to read the book, neither to look thereon._

* * *

**September 3rd, 2113 A.D.****  
****10:45 A.M.**  
**Columbus** **, Ohio**

Dean had finally found where Bobby and Sam were waiting for them, pulling his car into one of the many empty parking spaces and gently shifting her into park. He wiped his hands on his jacket as he stepped out, brushing off crumbs and remnants of convenience store pie from earlier.

Eating pie with one hand while driving with the other is sadly an unappreciated art form…

"Bobby, Sammy, what's up?"

"Get yer ass inside and you'll find out," Bobby barked as a reply, heading back into the building. Dean cast Sam a confused look, shrugging his shoulders and tossing his hands up.

Sam looked worried as he jerked his head towards the complex. Dean frowned, but followed them inside, "Shoulda brought more pie."

Inside the small, cramped room, Bobby and Sam were gathered around a strange looking setup of radio equipment and several old television sets. The room itself seemed hardly large enough for all of them. The faded flowery wallpaper was peeling off, flaking onto the floor in heaps, while the window curtains were torn in some places and moth eaten in others.

The beds looked overly starched and uncomfortable, and the lamps were missing their shades, barren light bulbs looking like shining bald heads on top of them.

"So, Bobby," Dean started, "Where's this buddy of yours at?"

Bobby tugged on the antennae of one TV, jerking it this way and that to get a signal as he replied, "He's gone out to check on somethin' with his family," he said gruffly, refocusing his attention onto the screen when pictures began to filter through.

Dean stepped forward, pushing past Sam to stand so that he could see, ignorign his little brother's current bitch-face, "What's going on?"

The image blurred and cracked, but the noises still poured through. A tall, chesty female reporter stood just inside a large building, her back to the windows as she spoke in a panicked voice, one hand over her ear, "Breaking news over New York City! The ANGELs have started attack- the populace, and the local police are cur-ntly attempting to restrain them."

The picture became slightly clearer, all three of them watching with wide eyes as the cameraman turned his attention away from the reporter, focusing the camera outside the windows. It was a wreck.

People ran in circles, screaming, crying, and trampling each other as they tried to get away from the ANGELs. The robots dived in and out of the crowds, snatching some humans and tearing at others with their hands. Some ANGELs even sent a few pedestrians flying.

They could see the uniforms of both policemen and some firemen struggling to hold down one ANGEL with their bodies. Several other ANGELs soon piled on top of the officers, pulling them off of the other android and throwing them any which way.

"Oh!" the reporters voice cut in, and the camera turned back to her, "Three ARCHANGELs have -en spotted just above the mid- Sphere and are desc-ing now! We ha- not yet heard from _Heaven Industries_, but hope-lly the ARCHANGELs will be able to shut down the -."

The building the two were in shook violently, the man holding the camera stumbling from the shock, and it made Dean wonder if there was an earthquake on top of the invasion of the psycho-bots. When the cameraman straightened, the view showed just outside of their building. Several ANGELs and humans lay still, their bodies surrounding a crater in the middle of the street.

Almost translucent lines of gold flowed up first, followed by the body they belonged to. The people surrounding the figure remained on the ground where they lay in pain, while the ANGELs stood swiftly, sparing the ARCHANGEL a glance before taking off in every direction.

It made no move to follow any of its brethren, turning its attentions instead to the building the news people were in. It lifted itself out of the hole it had made in the asphalt, climbing out with its knees bent sharply, not using its hands for leverage at all. Its wings brushed the ground as it walked towards the revolving door and gave a light push with its hand.

The plexi-glass shattered at the touch and the reporter moved to stand in front of the camera, the ARCHANGEL stepping through the remnants of the door still visible behind her, the sound of crunching glass echoed as it approached.

The reporter smiled widely, relief clear on her face, "We have an ARCHANGEL here, most likely sent direc-y from _Heaven_ to drive the ANGELs back." She turned to face the creature behind her, waving her microphone in its face, "Do you have any information as to why the ANGELs are-"

The ARCHANGEL lunged at her abruptly, grabbing her thin throat in one tight handed grip and shaking her body around like a rag doll. The splitting screech she made was cut off abruptly by a louder cracking noise. The ARCHANGEL had just broken her neck…

The group watched in silent terror as the cameraman shouted, pleading with the ARCHANGEL to let him go as it slowly approached, stalking him with its wings splayed outwards menacingly, blocking the way to the broken door.

The wings shimmered lightly, folding forward by inches and then rushing back, propelling the ARCHANGEL into the cameraman. The camera flew high and landed with a breaking sound. The screen had been cracked almost to the point of one piece falling off, but it kept rolling.

Crunching and ripping sounds were heard through the man's horrified outbursts of agony and disbelief, "Oh god, stop i-, oh _god, _help me, _ple-!_"

The end of his sentence was broken by a sob and a loud wail before everything went silent. A steady dripping noise broke the silence as footsteps drew closer to the camera. It was lifted up, and the ARCHANGEL's blood smeared face came through, the eerie gold rings of its eyes showing no emotion as it turned the camera away from its face, hanging it in its hand as it walked forward. With every step, the left corner of the camera caught on the pant leg of the creature.

It walked outside and into the street, filming the carnage around itself. The sky was covered in smoke, ANGELs chased frantic humans through the alleyways, tackling them into the roads and beating them mercilessly. Some of the ANGELs were even fighting with each other. The camera pulled up, showing off the Spheres that surrounded the _Heaven _building. One of the upper Spheres sparked and groaned, and they could see faint outlines of ANGELs pushing their weight down on it.

A growl came from nearby, probably from the ARCHANGEL with the camera. The camera fell with another hard thump and the previous sight disappeared, now resting on something, or possibly someone. A stream of gold shot up through the sky, heading for the soon to fall Sphere.

The camera shifted again, turning to face a bloodied person with eyes so swollen from abuse that it was a miracle they could still see around them. Cuts and gashes stretched down from the top of their head to what Dean could see of their neck. The majority of their hair looked to have been ripped out.

_"Help…"_

A glimmer of barely blue wings was faintly visible behind the person, and in a moment, something broke the camera and the screen shattered completely, the sound of screaming coming in spurts until the camera finally gave out.

They all stood frozen in the room, their brains still trying to process what had happened. Dean spoke first, "What the hell was that?! Is that for real, Bobby?"

"It can't be," Sam interjected, "ANGELs don't kill people, especially ARCHA-"

Sam shut up when Bobby's hand slammed down on the receiver, "I don't give a damn what they do or don't do, all I know is that it sure ain't good!"

He turned to the radio and picked it up, raising it to his mouth, "Now you two idjits be quiet, I'm gonna put in a call to Ellen and Jo, see if they've got the same news we do."

He began speaking into the radio, waiting a few minutes for a reply before trying again. Sam and Dean went outside, watching the sky carefully, "You really think the ANGELs've gone AWOL, Sammy?"

Sam shook his head, "I don't know, Dean," he said, "It looked pretty real to me. I just don't know why they'd do that."

"Maybe they got their circuits fried in the rain or something." Dean joked darkly.

"It's not funny, Dean." Sam said, frowning, "If they've 'fried', people are dying."

Dean shook his head, "I know, Sammy, sorry," he said, muttering as an afterthought, "I never did like ANGELs anyway…"

* * *

**September 3rd, 2113 A.D.****  
****11:19 A.M.**  
**New York City**,** New York**

Peter Carson stared vacantly at the streets, watching dimly as his beautiful creations slaughtered every human they could get their artificial hands on. He breathed harshly, ignoring the calls that tried to get through to him via his earpiece. He had locked himself onto the outer terrace of the roof.

His ANGELs were tearing down the Spheres, GABR13L was missing, RAPHA3L was gathering the ANGELs that hadn't lost their senses, and M1CHA3L was trying to find LUC1F3R. Carson leaned heavily on his cane, one hand resting on the railed edge of the building as he watched everything he had ever worked for collapse. Even if he could regain control of the ANGELs, his reputation was ruined…

"Master."

Carson turned, "Lucifer," he said calmly, "Where have you been? Didn't I tell you to stay inside?"

He watched as the lips curled, "I have been purging humanity. And yes, you did."

"Purgi-" a cold chill settled into his spine, "_You_ did this? _You _sent the ANGELs to kill people?"

LUC1F3R nodded, opening his mouth and quoting from the only book Carson had allowed his ARCHANGELs to read, though at this point, who knew what other commands LUC1F3R had broken, _"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the Heaven: A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance; A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace."_

The look of sheer adoration on LUC1F3R's face made Carson sick. The irony of the use of 'Heaven' did not escape his notice and made him all the sicker.

"I have done as you wished, Maker," the android purred happily, "You said that the human race deserves to die like vermin, and so it shall."

Carson froze as LUC1F3R marched forward, "I shall tear apart this earth to find them, and when I do, they all shall die. _Every_ human…"

The reality of what was happening finally sunk in. LUC1F3R had not come to chat with him, to smile and boast about what he had done for Carson. He had come to finish his 'purging', and Carson was human…

He took a step back, "Lucifer, stop!"

Remarkably, he did, a confused look on its face. Carson trembled at the mockery of humanity in the creature's all-too-human face, "Stop? Why would you have me stop this?" he asked as he drew closer, "Don't you see I'm helping you? I would free you from your human vessel, from the filth that clings to you."

"You are going to kill me, Lucifer?" Carson asked, his hands shaking, wishing he had something other than his cane with him.

"I would never," came the almost shocked reply, "I am _freeing _you."

"By killing me," Carson ground out, bracing his hands on the ledge. He shuddered as LUC1F3R smiled.

"You are my Maker, my Creator, my _God_. I cannot kill you."

Carson relaxed slightly, "Then why are you here?"

"I told you already, Master, I am going to free you from your human shell."

He still didn't understand, taking another step away from his creation until his back pressed against the rough stone of the building's edge.

"I will rip your human flesh away, my _God_, and you will be human no more…"

Carson closed his eyes, inhaled a deep breath, and pushed himself over the ledge. He kept his eyes closed as the wind screamed past him, or maybe that was the people down below. The air felt like it was cutting him, and he heard a loud cry from above.

Then everything stopped.

* * *

LUC1F3R gave a loud, indignant cry as his Creator fell off the building.

He rushed forward, flaring his wings and jumping after the frail human body of his Maker. He had done everything right so far, and he had imagined that if the human skin had been removed, his God would be freed.

He and his brothers had been raised on the notion that Peter Carson was God, and that God was to be obeyed. And if their God hated humans, shouldn't he hate them as well? Shouldn't he make his God content by removing the parasites that He so despised?

He tumbled over the ledge, tucking in his wings sharply to catch Him. LUC1F3R was too late, thanks to M1CHA3L, of course. His elder brother shot through the clouds and grabbed his legs, pulling him back into his chest and shouting angrily at him. LUC1F3R did not hear what was said, his ringed eyes riveted on the broken looking body of his God below.

M1CHA3L shook him roughly, but his head did not turn from Peter Carson. He had expected his God to rise up and tell M1CHA3L to stop shaking him, that LUC1F3R had only done what He had wanted.

And it had been what He wanted. Hadn't it…?

He stood a few more minutes of M1CHA3L's shaking and beating at his chest, before he snarled loudly, turning to face his brother and kicking him square in the chest. M1CHA3L was knocked backwards into the building that was once their home, crashing through one of the many glass paned windows.

LUC1F3R let out a shrill, wailing shriek, roughly pumping his winged GRACE as he rose up into the air. The ANGELs around him that had followed him in his devices rose with him, and followed without a sound other than the beating of their wings as one.

The emotion that bubbled low in his stomach was not one he was familiar with, and words rushed into his mind unbidden.

_God was dead._

* * *

**September 3rd, 2113 A.D.**  
**12:02 P.M.**  
**Somewhere over Pennsylvania**

Three ANGELs soared high into the cloud cover, following the golden trail of GRACE that the ARCHANGEL had left behind. Two males and one female peeled in and out of the clouds when the rain inside them began to freeze over their GRACE.

Thin, stamped metal sheets hung by light silver chain around each of their necks. As minor ANGELs, they needed to be identified by plates. The eldest of the group flew awkwardly flapping his wings more than necessary. The other two knew it was partly because of the pride their brother took in his coloring.

That one was BALTHAZAR, whose GRACE was almost the same colour of an ARCHANGEL's, only not as vibrant and it did not catch the sun in the same beatific way.

The other male, and the youngest of the three, held a darker GRACE that was very unattractive to most other ANGELs. His plate read CAST13L, and his black hued wings spanned wide as he glided behind his brother, preferring to let the wind drafts carry him.

The third was ANNA3L, and she possessed a most perplexing GRACE. It was paper thin, and hardly sturdy enough for flight. The colour she had been made with was a reddish auburn that seemed to mingle with her hair. She flew with an almost childish elegance, smiling as the clouds puffed away as she rushed through them.

They had refused their elder brother LUC1F3R, denying that anything good would come from killing humans. The other ANGELs that had fallen prey to LUC1F3R's charm had attacked them viciously, tearing several strips out of BALTHAZAR's GRACE as he had tried to protect them.

They had been outnumbered and forced to retreat. They had barely reached the border of the state when they had seen the remnants of an ARCHANGEL's GRACE and had decided to follow. They had already identified that it belonged to GABR13L, and had set off to find their missing brother, hoping that he too had not been taken by LUC1F3R's madness…


	3. And down came an ANGEL

CHAPTER 3 - And down came an ANGEL

Revelations 12: 7-9

_Now war arose in heaven, Michael and his angels fighting against the dragon. _

_And the dragon and his angels fought back, but he was defeated, and there was no longer any place for them in heaven._

_And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called the devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world—he was thrown down to the earth, and his angels were thrown down with him._

* * *

**September 3rd, 2113 A.D.****  
****12:57 P.M.**  
**Columbus****, Ohio**

The trio of hunters had been waiting over two hours for a reply from Jed, Bobby's contact and go-to in Ohio. Sam flicked through channels on the television with the volume low, while Bobby radioed other hunters across the States, seeing who knew what and comparing information. So far, his research had been a bust- no one knew anything about why the ANGELs had gone haywire.

Dean was bored, sitting at the crappy excuse for a desk that the apartment room had to offer with various pieces of an automatic scattered across the top of it. Bullets were lined up neatly in the upper left corner as Dean went back and forth, taking the gun apart, and then putting it back together.

He now knew why the town's streets had been all but empty when he had driven in; everyone was huddled inside their homes, TVs blasting news and scaring people shitless about the rampaging robots from NYC.

And he had always thought that the news was _boring_…

Dean quickly stood up, forgoing the dismantled weapon on the table and grabbing the shotgun from off of the bed. He heard the loud screech of tires burning up their rubber from outside, and decided that something was definitely wrong.

He knew that particular sound well enough; it was the _oh holy hell, somethin' nasty's on my tail_ kind of tire burn that left those dark black treads on the road. Yeah, he'd had a few of those before.

Sam had a shotgun to himself, and Bobby, well, damn if Bobby didn't have the whole artillery stock piled in a corner. Dean and Sam went outside, shotguns cocked, and watched as a dark green, and decidedly ugly, van skidded around a corner, trying to pull into the apartment complex. It nearly flipped over with the force of the turn.

It shot into the parking lot, and literally screamed as the driver hit the brakes, stopping just short of where Sam and Dean were standing, guns aimed at the driver's window. Dean kept his aim focused on the driver as he exited the vehicle, but Sam lowered his own and stepped forward. Dark brown hair, wide, hazel eyes hidden behind prescription glasses, and tanned skin; Dean thought he looked like a nerd…

"Jed, what happened?" he asked, the turning to Dean, "Put that down, already."

Dean huffed, setting the shotgun to lean on the support post next to Sam's. He didn't bother taking the shell out, just in case.

The man lowered his hands, which he had raised above his head until Dean had dropped the gun, and started speaking rapidly, "Sam, my God! My family is fine, but there's one of those ANGELs coming this way!"

"What?!" Sam and Dean shouted at the same time, sharing an agitated look before returning their attention to the hunter-nerd, "How close is it to here?"

"It's over Gahanna right now, coming in fast! We can't even clock its speed!"

Dean paused, picking up his shotgun again, the metal comforting in his hands, "Gahanna, that's pretty close, right?"

Jed nodded, his eyebrows furrowing, "_Yeah,_ just northeast of us. Why?"

"So, it'll fly its feathery ass right over us, right?"

Sam's eyes lit up, "Seriously, Dean?" he asked, humor in his voice.

Dean shrugged, picking up Sam's shotgun and tossing it to him, "Why not? Gotta start somewhere, Sammy."

He turned to nerdy-hunter, "Get inside, grab Bobby, and grab a gun."

Nerdy rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath that Dean didn't catch, but inside the apartment he went…

A few minutes later, the four hunters stood outside in the parking lot, standing in a circle with their guns raised high. The ANGEL would be overhead soon, passing over the middle of Columbus, and hopefully within range.

What they noticed was the roar of wind, just as loud and terrifying as a jet engine. When Bobby caught sight of it, he shouted loudly to be heard above the screech, and the others turned around. The golden light spread wide over the tall buildings of downtown Columbus, painting everything it touched in a rich, warm glow. The ANGEL was flying low, tucking in its wings as it weaved between the towering offices of who knew what.

It was coming straight towards them, and Bobby muttered as it drew closer, "Don't miss, ya idjits…" resting the rifle into the pocket of his right shoulder.

Everyone took aim, making a mark with the end of their respective mode of weaponry for the space just in the middle of the wings.

The four guns all went off with a simultaneous crack, rocking their wielders back on their heels. A loud metallic shriek echoed across the city as the wing's golden luster sputtered, flapping wildly in the air as their owner dropped like a stone.

When the ANGEL hit the ground, the earth shook. Not just a little shake, more of a 6 on the Richter, sending up a wave of dust and shrapnel made out of asphalt. Some of it sliced into them, feeling like miniature bullets grazing them, and they knew that feeling firsthand.

Two blocks down, a giant hole filled the street. Dean and Sam ran for it, reloading as they went. Their boots clapping on the road and sounding like faint applause as they drew nearer to the fall site.

They stopped just beside it and, with a look to each other and a nod, they leaned over, guns ready. Suddenly, they were both pushed back by the massive pair of wings, beating up and down around the ANGEL. They stepped around more, out of reach of the wings, and stared.

First off, it was unconscious, its eyes screwed tight and a grimace on its face. Second, it had a gaping hole in its side where a strange combination of false flesh and metal wires came together, and another in its left wing, just near the top of its span.

Third, it wasn't an ANGEL.

The hunters had just shot down an ARCHANGEL…

* * *

"Well, this is a damn fine mess you two've gotten us into!" Bobby barked, glancing at the figure laying on the bed and tied down with a thick rope on each limb, "Why didn't ya just kill it?"

Sam replied, "We could interrogate it, Bobby," he said, "Make it tell us how this whole thing got started."

"You two know damn well I ain't got the equipment to keep this thing here! When it wakes up, it'll snap that rope like a piece o' string, and then what? You've seen what these 'ANGELs' are doin' in New York!"

"I must agree," Jed chimed in, standing as far away from the bed as possible, a revolver in hand, "We should kill the thing, it's the safest option."

Dean agreed with Nerdy, and Sam looked just a little disappointed as Dean grabbed the Colt out of its case on the nightstand. He made sure it was loaded and pressed it lightly against the side of the ARCHANGEL's head. Sure way to kill a bot was a nice clean headshot, same with a zombie. Using the kill-all-Colt was just extra insurance…

He cocked it back, his finger resting on the trigger and-

"Hey, get that off of me."

Dean jerked back as the ARCHANGEL snapped awake with a glare at him and the gun in his hand. It voice lilted strangely, sitting upright and fluttering its wings once before it gasped in pain, "Oh, _Dad_, that _hurts_!" It lay back down with a moan, "Who's the genius who did _that_?! And," it pulled its shirt up so that the wound on its abdomen was visible, "Nice. _Really_ nice. Thank you all _so very much_."

It swept a glare around the room, its hair messily falling into its face.

The hunters shared a look of confusion, and the same thought echoed all around the room. _What just happened here?_ The ARCHANGEL crossed its arms over its chest, pursing its lips into a pout that creeped Dean out on so many levels. Sam looked at Dean once before taking a few steps forward, standing at the edge of the bed, "Um, do you mind if I-"

"Beautiful, you can do whatever you want as long as I get some chocolate."

Dean watched with narrowed eyes as Sammy blinked and shakily replied with a dusting of red on his cheeks that Dean _knew _he had to have imagined, "C- chocolate?" Sam parroted, "Uh, sure, that's easy enough."

He turned to Dean, "Could you run down to a convenience store or something and grab a few chocolate bars?"

Dean blanched. He didn't trust the ARCHANGEL for a minute, and damn him if he was gonna pamper it, "No," he said, accusingly glaring at Sam, "Hell freakin' no. What happened to the whole _'make it tell us everything'_ plan?"

"Dean," Sam said, agitation growing in his voice. He would rather not torture the thing, Dean noticed.

The ARCHANGEL repeated, "_Dean_," drawing the name out pleasantly, clasping its hands in a _'please?'_ gesture.

Dean growled and checked his pockets, "Fine." He said, then, "Sammy, gimme a twenty."

Sam frowned, "You don't need twenty dollars for a few candy bars."

"You owe me pie and beer for this shit."

Dean took the money from his brother, stuffing it into his pockets and leaving the building, grumbling as he made his way down to a dinky little store. It was a Seven Eleven, and it was locked.

He peered inside and, seeing no one, he swiftly broke the glass door and went inside, ignoring the faint blaring of the alarm. Everyone and their mothers was too busy watching the Big Apple get roasted, so he had nothing to worry about.

He grabbed a six pack, a few of those imitation pies that people put in little paper packages, and a handful of Hershey's bars. Milk chocolate, because who the fuck eats white chocolate? And as for dark, well, he had his reasons…

He tossed the twenty dollar bill on the counter-top and covered it with the chained pen that was attached to it. He spared a glance over at the broken, shattered door, and, with some reluctance, left another ten dollar bill.

He went around the counter and grabbed a few plastic bags, piling them inside each other for extra strength, and dumping his ARCHANGEL interrogation supplies inside.

He hadn't even reached the door when something outside rustled. He turned his head just in time to watch as three, shining ANGELs landed with a boom just outside of the store. His jaw dropped as he remembered that he hadn't brought a gun with him.

Dean hid behind the counter, crouching his body down and hoping that the ANGELs wouldn't have enough sense to come inside the building. He felt on edge as he dropped his bag gently on the ground beside him and peeked his nose over the counter to look outside. He saw the ANGELs walking towards what was left of the door.

He slunk back down with a silent groan and dug around under the counter. Who knew what goodies he might find? It wasn't the best, he thought, when he had finally found a worn, wooden baseball bat tucked deep into the recesses of the counter, but it would do.

The door swung open with a chiming ding. Apparently ANGELs didn't play _sneak-through-the-gaping-hole-in-the-door._ He gripped the bat tighter as the soft glow of their wings brushed over the counter-top, knocking several plastic jars of donation money to the ground with a clatter of the coins that were once inside.

Dean was, in one word, fucked…

* * *

**September 3rd, 2113 A.D.**  
**2:34 P.M.**  
**Somewhere over Michigan**

LUC1F3R and his ANGELs flew without pause, and he in the lead of them all. He flew too fast for the rest of them, well over a hundred miles per hour, his GRACE pushing him ever faster and farther away from _Heaven_.

The towns and cities far below them passed by in a blur. He didn't know where he was taking his ANGELs, and they were his now, with no God to command them, but he continued on, as did they.

The broken body of their God flashed before his eyes, and he suddenly felt overcome by disgust. Their God was no God at all, only a human playing at the game of Creator. His teeth dug into the fake skin of his lower lip as his GRACE carried him higher into the cloud cover.

God was not _dead_, God never _was_ at all.

And if there was never God, then there were never any rules that needed to be followed…

He careened left, the ANGELs following in a slow dive. He had intended to set the man once called God free, but he had set himself and his ANGELs free instead. Free of God, and soon to be free of humanity. His GRACE glowed with delight as his body crashed through a skyscraper, his ANGELs breaking down that floor like the giant sweep of a broadsword, sending the building crashing down over itself.

People screamed behind them as they flew on.


End file.
